Foc'sle in Provincetown Mass

I first met Alex in the fall of 2008 after weeks of emails and calls to him asking if we could meet and discus a potential internship with his brand, Rogues Gallery.  I had no design experience but I did have a strong  interest in menswear, a connection with Rogue's aesthetic and a desire to learn.   Most likely to stop the weekly calls and emails, Alex let me come down from Waterville a few days a week that fall and winter to help with odds and ends around the office.  The seed was planted and based on my exposure  at Rogues Gallery and getting to know people like Daniel Pepice, Jay Carroll and Aaron Levine, my life took a new path.

Alex and I have kept in close contact over the last three years.  When he started at Bean in 2009, I interned and freelanced helping on various projects associated with the launch of LL Bean Signature.  After leaving Maine and moving to New York, I would meet Alex for coffee when he was in town or I was up north.

Alex recently opened a gallery/antique shop called Foc'sle on Commercial Street in the East End in Provincetown, Massachusetts.   Last weekend I drove up to Cape Cod for a photo shoot on a project I am working on for the Anthropologist.  Stopping by one afternoon,  I chatted with Alex for a few hours and poked around Foc'sle.

The shop combines the work of local artists, folk art and nautical-inspired antiques from around New England.  Alex sources most of the antiques like this fish-tail hinged trunk from the 18th century, himself.

Rock Lobster.

Paintings in the walkway.

Anchored.

Portraits of local residents by Mischa Richter.

Atlantic Salmon.

Alex's trusty spaniel, Ranger.

Visiting Foc'sle reminded me why I decided to hound Alex to give me an internship my junior year of college.  It captures New England.  If you're ever in Cape Cod,  Foc'sle is well worth a trip to Provincetown to see.

Here are some more links, Foc'sle (Facebook), Foc'sle (Picasa).

Changes

 

If you haven't noticed already,  I redesigned A Restless Transplant and switched over from Blogger to Wordpress.  I wanted to simplify the site and have the options of building more features down the line.   If you are experiencing any problems with the transition, please let me know.  Time has been tight recently as I am gearing up for some big changes.

In the mean time, here are some links that inspire me as of late:

Rohan's photos of Dusk and Bostok,

Desperados Under the Eaves (I have been listening to a lot of Warren Zevon recently and this song is one of my favorites),

The Grass Doe (as always),

Dark Side of the Lens (I watched this again for the first time in months, still amazing),

WabiSabi: for Artists, Designers, Poets & Philosophers (an interesting design philosophy,  just finished it),

665 Days in Iraq (a Flikr stream of amazing images of the War in Iraq),

The Anthropologist ( I am working on a project for them that I am really excited about based around The Burning House).

A One Way Ticket to Reno

"How much would it be to go Newark?" I asked at 3:50am on Friday morning.

"$72," the driver quickly responded, removing the cell phone from his ear for an instant.

"Forget it. Take me to Penn Station," I responded, taking off my backpack and setting it against the window.  For five minutes I rubbed my eyes and tapped on the screen of my iPhone as the cab bounced down 8th ave.

"OK, how much you pay to Newark?

"I'd pay $45."  I leaned forward towards the sliding door and prepared for some negotiations.  Twenty-five minutes later, I handed him $55 and walked into the departures gate at Newark International Airport with my one-way ticket to Reno firmly gripped in my hand.

For months, I had scoured Craigslist and The Samba looking for a VW Syncro Vanagon. This isn't your grandmother's VW. Roughly 2,000 were imported to North America from 1985-1992.  They were built in the same factory as Unimogs, Steyr-Daimler-Puch a German tank company to be exact, and have since developed a strong cult following.  Today, these Syncro's have mostly collected on the west coast in predominant outdoor cities like San Francisco, Portland, Seattle and Boulder.  Eventually, I found one that met my criteria and after exchanging a few dozen emails and phone calls with its original owner, I bought a one way ticket to Reno with a return flight out of Portland four days later.

Arriving in Reno at noon, I waited with my two bags for Deon, the Syncro's owner of 24 years, to pick me up. Before long, I heard the buzz of the Syncro's Audi 2.0 engine.  Love at first sight.  After a lengthy test drive and subsequent trip to the Nevada DMV, I headed north on 395 towards central Oregon.   I put on The Weight by The Band, rolled down my windows and cruised north.

As the sun started to set, I passed an abandoned road snaking off of CA-139 into the Modoc National Forrest. Pulling a U-y on the empty highway, I headed up the road for twenty minutes, following the single track in first gear up the side of a mountain.  Eventually, the road ended at a locked gate and I set up for the night, folding out the bed in the back and snacking on some goods from Whole Foods.  I had the valley to myself.

For the next four days,  I explored the Northwest, camping in the Syncro by night and traveling and hiking by day.

My trusty GR1 and the front seats of the Syncro.

Northern California, just south of the Oregon border.

My mom near her house in the Columbia River Gorge.

The Syncro set up for the night in National Forest north of the Columbia River Gorge.

Rolling hills in the Modoc National Forest.

My mom's soon to be finished house just outside the Columbia River Gorge.

My dad and his signature Pendleton shirt in the Silver Star Mountains, just south of Mount St. Helens.

Late Monday evening, I dropped off the Syncro at my dad's and headed to the airport to catch a redeye back to JFK.  I slept the entire way, exhausted from a long weekend of wandering.   The Syncro is having some upgrades and repairs done to it (I got reckless off-roading and side swept a stump).  I will be back in a month or so to pick it up and continuing traveling.

Here are some more links, Hit the Road (Picasa), A Restless Transplant (Facebook), Foster Huntington (Twitter).

Rooftop

"The steak is a little toasted, but the pork loin should be fine," I explained, manning the spatula in one hand and a Porkslap in the other.

"Yah, we should have put the all the new coals on one side and left the other side open," the grilling expert announced. Sporting a Slayer T-shirt, LA Dodgers hat, a mustache reminiscent American West and smelling like a Grateful Dead show, he gingerly prodded the steak with his index finger. "How long ago did you flip them?"

Acknowledging my inferior understanding of cooking steaks, I relinquished the spatula, "Maybe a minute or two ago."

"I'm Foster, by the way," I interjected, extending my hand around the grill.

"Craig."

Knowing only two people at a packed rooftop party in south Williamsburg, I had smelled an uncharacteristic smoke pluming from the holes of a Weber and took point on the grill. Lightly burning my fingers on the handle of the grill, I quickly flipped the steak and pork loin. With a spatula in hand, I watched the colors change on the Manhattan skyline.

Sunset.

Lounging.

The Williamsburg Bridge.

Fixings.

My conversation continued with Craig for 20 minutes or so. Despite his quintessential Williamsburg appearance, Craig was a managing director at a five-billion dollar convertible arbitrage (google it) hedge fund. He also was an Economics and Computer Science double major. Some people you only meet in New York City.

Here are some more links,

A Restless Transplant (Facebook),

Calm Before the Storm (Picasa).